


Counting Lovers Off Your Fingers

by Holmes



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Blood, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Injury, Kidnapping, Lots of OCs - Freeform, M/M, Non-sexual torture, POV Sebastian Moran, Permanent Injury, Sebastian's whorish nature saves everyone, So many OCs, Torture, mormor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 10:31:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3443852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holmes/pseuds/Holmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sebastian is kidnapped in an effort to reach the heart of the Moriarty Empire, it turns out that having too many lovers for your own good comes in quite handy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counting Lovers Off Your Fingers

**Author's Note:**

> Sebastian spends the last few weeks catching glimpses of shadowy figures out of the corner of his eye. He also strikes up a tentative friendship with an unusually lucky man named Vlad. Vlad quickly becomes Sebastian's go-to gambling partner, earning them success and quid along the way. But just when another night of routine gambling seems to be reaching its peak, an act of betrayal comes in the form of a victory pint, sending Sebastian unconscious and right into the hands of a new enemy.

Sebastian’s mind felt groggy and thick when he stirred. He was confused, never having seen Vlad slipping something into his drink. In fact, he’d made it easy for the man, putting his trust easily into his new friend. And now he was here, alone and in the dark, wondering what the fuck happened, how the fuck he’d gotten here...

For a moment, he though he’d been raped and was only now waking up to the aftermath, and his stomach gave a sickening twist, a wave of nausea rolling over him.

But that didn’t make sense. He felt no warmth beside him, and this was no bed…

It was a table.

Sebastian quickly did a mental check, shifting slightly, trying to feel if anything was different, or missing. What happened? Where’s Vlad? Is he okay?

The sniper was in tact, but restrained, his wrists and ankles bound by leather straps. He gave a confused tug.

“ _Hey!_ ” he finally shouted, his voice rough and rasping, adding to the fury of his sound. “Where the fuck am I? _Come on out, you bastard, whoever you are!_ ”

He began to thrash, creating an unpleasant ruckus there on that cold table.

Sebastian ceased his thrashing as he heard footsteps in the darkness.

“ _Who’s there?_ ” he demanded.

He was answered by a flick of the lights, sending Sebastian groaning. He was further disoriented by the strong fluorescents as they turned on directly over him, blinding him to the rest of the shadowy room. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut before his vision could adjust.

An approaching shadow made it slightly easier to regain his sight, and he blinked his eyes tentatively open…

“What?” the sniper breathed, voice softer, confused. “ _Vlad?_ ”

“Yes Sebastian,” Vlad said simply, smiling wide. It was the most expression he’d ever seen on the man’s face.

Sebastian shook his head. “I don’t understand,” he said softly. “What…what’s going on?”

“I’ve kidnapped you, you idiot,” Vlad snapped. “Dear god, you’re a moron, just as your name implies.”

Sebastian went silent, his lips pressed together in a tight line.

“I’ve been watching you for weeks, Sebastian,” he went on, voice soft as he circled slowly around the table he lay on. “You work for Moriarty—I know that much. I’m no fool, and though _you_ are I remain unable to figure out just who the fuck Moriarty _is!_ ”

Vlad slammed his fist down between Sebastian’s feet, but the sniper remained still. He was already falling deeply into his mind, finding a happier, warmer place.

An old army tactic.

When the enemy had you and wanted information, your chance for holding out the longest involved drawing up warm images, escaping your own body as best you damn well could. Immediately Sebastian began to recall his first _date_ , of sorts, with the very Moriarty Vlad sought to discover.

_I come home, forehead shining of sweat after an intense hit. It was executed perfectly, and Jim saw it all from his surveillance cameras…_

 

“I know you’re seeing him,” Vlad said simply. “This _Moriarty_. You’re _with_ him. The problem is, you’re such a fucking whore, I can’t tell just who they are!”

_Jim invites me inside. I can tell he’s pleased with my work tonight, and Christ, I am too with my employer smiling at me like that. I’m fucking glowing. He asks me if I want to stay for a glass of wine…_

 

Sebastian’s thoughts were interrupted by a sharp hand slapping him across the face.

“ _Is it Will?!_ ” Vlad screams. “ _Is it Jim? Is it your brother? Charlie? Björn!?_ ”

_It’s the hospital courtyard. I’m sick and weak, but this feels like the right time to propose. I’m getting down on one knee for Jim—for a third and final time. The moon is out, and all I can smell is lavender. I pull a ring out of my pocket…_

 

“We can kill them all, if you like,” Vlad threatens, and Sebastian observes the man turning his back, bending over a small, metal table nearby.

The sniper’s breath begins to hitch and shake, but it’s not because of the knife Vlad now holds in his hands, showing it clearly for Sebastian as he turned back toward him. It’s the idea of him going after his loved ones.

Visions begin to come back to Sebastian—visions of dark figures slipping just out of the corner of his eye these past few weeks, in the most normal and innocent of moments. He’d never thought that the figures were connected, never thought he was being _tailed._ They were all Vlad, every damn time. He knew where he lived, knew were _Jim_ lived. Jim, and Björn, and Sev and Will…

The only thing protecting these men was the fact that Sebastian’s love life has been so fucking scattered that Vlad couldn’t tell which lover was Moriarty.

_It’s springtime, and I’m in the beautiful courtyard of the town hall, tiny petals being carried away by the wind as I slide a ring onto Jim’s finger…_

Sebastian ignored the stinging feeling of the knife running gently down the side of his throat, drawing up a faint line of blood. Vlad should know by the scars scattered across his skin that he’s been through worse than this. And it’s too early to bleed him out. Only an idiot would cut his throat before the interrogation even began…

Sebastian deepened his breathing, closing his eyes. He won’t talk. Not in a million fucking years. He’ll die before he puts Jim in danger like that. He falls back into the memories of his wedding day.

 _I’m happier than I ever remember being. There’s tears in my fucking eyes as I look at the most beautiful man in the world, and he’s looking right back at me. His knuckle grazes the tip of my pinky as he takes his ring—_ my _ring. He’s nervous, hands trembling just slightly as Doctor Graham guides him through his vows…_

 

Sebastian’s thoughts were broken by his own scream. He heard the crunch of bone as a set of surgical blades cut through his finger, Vlad wielding the fucking things serenely as he stood by the sniper’s right side.

“It’s no matter,” he said calmly. “You may be a moron, but _Moriarty_ knows who he is. And you have ten fingers, don’t you? Well, _nine_ now…”

Vlad lifted a hand, showing Sebastian his own bloodied index finger between his gloved digits as though it were an intriguing specimen. Sebastian fought off the wave of nausea at the sight, struggling a bit more desperately against his restraints. The table was wet with blood, and he was getting sicker by the second.

“You’re a hit man, aren’t you?” Vlad taunted, moving behind Sebastian’s head so that he couldn’t be seen. He brought his lips just behind Sebastian’s ear. “You won’t be doing much shooting without your trigger finger, will you?”

Clenching his teeth, Sebastian closed his eyes tightly, ignoring reality for his memories.

“Ten fingers…” Vlad purred.

_Jim says ‘I do,’ and I feel like the happiest man in the world…_

“and five lovers…”

_He slides that ring onto my finger, and nothing feels real. The metal is still warm from Jim’s hand, and it feels like I’ll never hurt again…_

“If we send a finger to each one, maybe _someone_ will finally step forward as the elusive _Moriarty_ , and we can sort things man to man, huh?”

Vlad begins to walk the long way around to Sebastian’s left side, dropping his bloodied finger carelessly on the steel table as he walked past.

_The ring on my left hand still feels strange. I’ve been conscious of its weight on my finger for hours now…_

Sebastian screamed again as he felt the bone of his ring finger finally giving way to Vlad’s blades. This finger is more difficult for Vlad for some reason, and the job is messy, leaving Sebastian’s flesh frayed around the jutting bone. It hurts like all hell, and Sebastian began to feel lightheaded as he lay there helplessly on the table, blood dripping off the table onto the floor.

“We can stop right here, Sebastian,” Vlad breathed gently. “You can walk away with eight fingers, and we can call it a day, if only you tell me who Moriarty is.”

“ _I am!_ ” Sebastian finally sputtered, his back arching in agony as his hand throbbed and his body burned with adrenaline. “God fucking dammit, _I’m Moriarty!_ ”

Vlad’s face was stone cold as he stared at Sebastian, watching him closely. Finally, his lips curled into a smile, and he let out a slow laugh, circling easily around the table once more.

“You must think I’m a real _idiot_ ,” Vlad breathed. He took Sebastian’s two fingers to the metal table, pulling fourth a couple small, plastic bags and tucking a finger into each, sealing it tightly. He changed into a fresh pair of rubber gloves and began to tuck each bagged finger into a small mailing envelope.

“Do you have a preference as to which one I send to whom?” Vlad asked politely.

Sebastian only groaned. “You’re sick,” he breathed.

“I think I’ll send your trigger finger to Björn,” Vlad decided. “Ring finger can go to Jim…and, what do you think? Middle to Will and pinky to your pervert brother?” Vlad scribbled names and addresses on each package, then gave a short whistle.

Without a word, another figure emerged silently from the shadows, and Sebastian was left wondering dazedly how many people were sitting there in the darkness, watching him.

“Deliver these in person, if you would,” Vlad said politely. “I can hardly wait to meet Moriarty. I want him to get his present today.”

 _Today._ It was daytime then, Sebastian thought. He’d been missing for a couple hours, at least. Will would have woken up, seen that he’d never returned last night, and called Jim right away. _Right?_ Certainly his men were out looking for him by now, certainly they’d left a trail that Jim and Will would be able to track down with their combined genius…

 Sebastian must’ve been looking quite pale, as Vlad took one look at him and waved over another figure. This new shadow stepped under the lights, and Sebastian saw that it was a doctor, dressed in scrubs, surgical mask and all. She pulled a rolling table out of the shadows, filled with bottles and tools and gauze. Sebastian almost thought he was going to be medically tended to, when the doctor turned, lifting a pair of scissors carefully. The sniper groaned, letting his eyes flutter shut…

 

 ***

 

Sebastian had woken with a start, letting out a small yelp as he came to with an electrical shock. He was now shirtless, and he realized with a small sense of relief that _that_ was what the nurse had likely wielded those scissors for, preparing him for his next round of torture. He tried opening and closing his fists. No additional fingers had been taken, his hands sticky with drying blood. Strange patches were stuck to his chest and head, wires leading off into a small machine nearby. It became quickly evident that these were the little bastards that delivered his electrical shock. Vlad stood by the machine to Sebastian’s right, watching him with a hateful expression as he manipulated the knobs and buttons, sending a painful shock to the electrodes attached to his temples.

“Jesus Christ!” the sniper snapped. “That’s fucking _annoying_.”

“I can make it much worse,” Vlad promised. “Unless you tell me who Moriarty is.”

“Go to hell.”

“We’ll go there together, if that’s what it takes,” Vlad snarled. He turned a dial, delivering a much stronger shock to the several electrodes on the sniper’s chest, and he stiffened, feeling eerily still and unable to move or speak as the current flowed through him. His body tensed, his eyes widened, and his body underwent the strangest form of pain he’d ever encountered.

Finally, the current ended, and Sebastian’s body relaxed immediately against the table with a _thud_.

Sebastian groaned, his skin burning where the electrodes were taped to his skin.

“Ready to talk?”

“No.”

Sebastian’s body stiffened again, this time everywhere. The pain was more pronounced, _longer_ , the sickening smell of singed skin entering his nose as he began to scream.

 

***

 

Sebastian’s sense of time was completely fucked. Unsure if he’d been here for hours or days or a mere thirty minutes, he seemed to slip in and out of consciousness, waking just to be tortured by some new method before passing out again. After being shocked, he was suffocated, underwent some simple assault, and then—perhaps most frustrating—a distinct ‘ _V_ ’ carved into his left breast. With that, Sebastian took advantage of Vlad’s proximity, spitting into his face. It was entirely worth it in the brief seconds before he was knocked out from a swift hook.

 

***

 

Sebastian was hungry.

This was the first thing he noticed upon waking up. He'd been gone for a long time, now, and pain was radiating everywhere, so awful that he looked forward to the respite he received every time he fell unconscious again. As he grew more awake, he was trying to place just how long he’d been out for this time, when he began to grow conscious of a crashing noise off in the distance. He heard shouting, fighting, and eventually bullets. Alarms, strange noises, death cries.

Sebastian wondered if his own end was drawing nearer as he heard footsteps approaching in a hurry. The room was still too fucking dark, a single light illuminating his table, keeping him nearly blind and making it that much easier to panic. He took a slow, shaking breath. None of this sounded good, and it felt a lot like his death was coming.

The sniper closed his eyes, light-headed and shaking. He knew he should probably be praying desperately to some god not to send him to the hell that he deserved, but he couldn’t. None of that would give him peace. No, Sebastian Moran elected to spend his final moments thinking about all the people he’d come to know as family. Jim, Will, Severin, Cat, Björn. These were the people who mattered most to him, these were the people that made his life worthwhile…

 

“Jesus _fucking—he’s in here!_ ”

The voice was familiar, but it took a couple more seconds before Sebastian recognized who it was.

“Flannigan?” Sebastian breathed. He struggled to lift his head but found he could only let it loll to the side.

It was a flurry of curses and men after that as the entirety of his team descended on him at once, cutting the leather straps that bound him and pulling him upright to a sit, immediately blinding him with a terrible headrush.

“Who’s carrying him out of here?” an urgent voice asked.

“Carrying! Christ, he needs medical care, before we do anything—“

“Someone stay here with him while we finish off the rest of them!”

“How many are left?”

“Five. Maybe six.”

“It’s _Vlad_ —“ Sebastian finally sputtered. He leaned into one of the men, his bloodied hand clasping desperately at the side of his neck. He could tell only by scent that it was Dmitri. “Vlad’s behind it. Oh god. Fuck, someone give me a gun! Who has an extra gun?”

“Sebastian, you’re not well—“

“ _I NEED A FUCKING GUN!_ ”

Sebastian felt the cool metal of a pistol press to his right palm, and he felt a sinking in his stomach as he realized how fucking _wrong_ it felt with his finger missing. He could barely hold the thing, let alone fire it.

“Is Vlad dead?” he asked urgently, sliding off his table. As he stood, several hands steadied him, and he shook all but two of them off.

“ _Keep your eyes on the bloody room_ ,” Sebastian growled, chronically adjusting his gun in his palm. “I’ll be fine. Now let’s start combing this fucking place or else we’ll all die sitting targets. _Come on_ —“

The sniper took a step, grew faint, and collapsed. He heard bullets firing again, this time much closer, and he fought to lift himself up, struggling only to collapse again, his vision blurring before finally everything went black.

 

***

 

Nearly thirty-six hours after his disappearance, Sebastian Moran was carried into Jim’s house from the van at the curb on a stretcher, his body covered in canvas so as to not startle any civilian eyes that might be watching. Moriarty’s men carried Sebastian’s body upstairs to the bedroom where their new personal doctor was waiting.

Severin entered the room first, moving directly to Jim’s side as Sebastian was carried in, not allowing any time for panic.

“He’s passed out,” Severin assured quickly as the rest of the men lowered the covered body to the bed. Rogers carefully pulled the canvas away, revealing a sleeping but _alive_ Sebastian, his face pale, blood staining his hands and chest and lip, face bruised and bloodied down to the neck.

“Missing a few bits, but I think he’s okay,” Severin went on. He looked almost as pale as his brother on the bed, he was so nervous.

The rest of the men filed silently out of the room. They’d done all they could do. Severin would stay behind to inform Jim of what had happened. But from this point, the situation became a family matter.

“We found him restrained,” Severin explained. The conscious twin sighed and ran a hand through his hair as Doctor Smith quickly tended to Sebastian, taking his vitals and setting him up with an IV.

“The finger you got in the mail wasn’t the only one. He’s got two missing. Who knows where the other one fucking is.” 

Severin gestured with a shaking finger to his brother’s hands, each one missing a single digit—his right hand missing an index finger, his left hand missing its ring.

“We killed ‘em all,” Severin whispered, eyes fixed on his brother.

 


End file.
